Shaun Connolly
As of me writing this column, Group Stage has just started. We are now half way through the World Cup hosted in North America. The Scots have taken over Providence, Boston and Worcester, the United States had one of their most impressive starts to a World Cup ever, and the same guys who called soccer “gay” in college are now asking me questions about the game and where we should watch the next game.
I had misgivings going into this tournament. The government was not letting in parts of Iran’s team’s staff, they denied an elite referee from Somalia, and the grift involved in it all being hosted here could make anyone with any sort of moral compass queasy. But, I have to say, it all goes away once that first whistle is blown. We are not defined by our leaders, we are people who love the beautiful game. Watching 48 teams vie for the ultimate trophy, surrounded by like-minded individuals who all hate referees and want to see a spectacular goal really makes the world feel so small. In a timeline where it can feel as though we are suffocating from bad news, the World Cup (of all things!) is releasing that tension.
I hope as you are reading this the United States is still competing. I hope there was an upset from a smaller country and I hope Christiano Ronaldo has lost and never gets to win. Until then, come fund me either behind City Hall at a watch party or at Boland’s with a pint. “Ole, ole, ole!”